Snape's Apprentice
by UKInMyHeart
Summary: If Snape's usual Hogwarts students are to be considered "insufferable", there might not be a word for University-level potions students. Suffice to say, the explosions are...well, the Weasley twins would be proud.
1. In Being Where She Shouldn't

Done with her studies for the day, Mauve was once again wandering the halls of the large school. Although they somehow seemed to always lead her to her classes on time, she never quite knew where Hogwarts' halls would lead her after class hours, though it did always seem to be someplace relevant and, of course, intriguing. Nothing like her old school, this seemingly timeless castle never seemed to run out of secrets it was willing to divulge to her.

Today she wandered the dungeon halls enjoying the quiet that was the absence of her fellow University classmates. Out of the 75 or so total students taking Uni level courses here during the summer, she was one of a severe minority who did not mind the dark, stony depths of the castle.

Following the dark passageway, she walked at a leisurely pace, trailing her fingers along the stones of the right-hand wall, allowing the calm of the ancient rocks to soak into her skin. Nearing the end of the corridor there was light glowing from a slightly open door. Creeping up to it, she peered carefully into what was visible of the room behind it. Tables lined the far wall, evenly covered with simmering potion cauldrons; a narrow shelf ran along the stone wall about eye-level, and was lined with flickering candles that seemed to be providing the room's lighting.

As she watched, the tall, dark form of her professor tred down the line of potions adding a pinch of ingredients to this one, stirring that one, checking the consistency of another, stopping directly in her view of the cauldrons, and began muttering notes to himself about the contents. Leaning forward, concentrating, he seemed unaware as to how close his hair was to the severely melted and deformed candles and the flames that were now licking hungrily at the loose strands. She slipped through the door intending to warn him when she saw the flame grasp a firm hold upon his hair. Raising her hand she acted purely on training, shouting "Aquias Expungent" shooting a small stream of water towards his head, drenching his hair as she also pulled him forcibly back a step or two by the back of his robes.

Off balance, he spun, roaring, his face contorted by rage to face her as the potion he had been consulting began to sputter and spit. Robes snapping around him he stalked quickly towards her retreating figure. Grabbing the collar of her shirt he lifted her, slamming her up against the door, jarring her severely as it slammed closed from the force of the action. Dizzy, her head beginning to throb she attempted to shake her vision steady as he composed himself enough to hiss at her.

"What," his face twisted ugily with each word, "are you doing here."

Mauve felt the blood draining from her face, her ability to move having fled. Deathly still she just hung there, the tightness in her throat growing and beginning to feel light-headed. Just as it began to occur to her that he could kill her, here, now, just by continuing to hold her there, he released her allowing her to collapse in an undignified heap on the hard floor.

"Get Out." He growled as he turned away from her in disgust. Unable to get her mouth to wrok in order to attempt to explain herself, she slowly pulled herself painfully up to standing, needing the door to support legs that refused to find strength. Glancing at his back, hoping to find her words as he raised his wand to vanquish the now ruined potions her eyes fell on the one in his line of aim. Spurred on by instant adrenaline she leapt towards him, "NO!"

"Don't fret," he sneered, "thanks to your little prank, this potion is already thoroughly ruined."

"Not, prank. Not ruined." She gasped as shooting pains made their way up the arm she had landed on when he had dropped her earlier. She threw herself at him grabbing his wand hand, knocking his spell awry to harmlessly dissipate against the classroom's stone walls.

"What was that?" he snapped as he turned on her, forcing her to stumble back.

She pointed towards the cauldron now containing an impossible, yet vivid silver-blue of a potion that wasn't supposed to exist. "The color, Merlin himself recorded it, it's the Remedium alucinus potion." She pushed off of the table she had backed up against in the middle of the room, and walked to the shelf of potions materials that covered the wall opposite the door. "No one's ever been able to re-duplicate this step." Pushing the growing pains in her arm and head she quickly scanned the shelves, reaching automatically for several ingredients and carried them back to the table. "But the next steps are still documented."

Severus Snape watched his meddlesome student as she shuffled through his stores and then returned to the offending cauldron. He was fighting a battle between his anger at his only, and now ruined, Cruciatus-relief potion, and his growing curiosity as he sneered at her motions. He knew of the obscurely referenced potion she mentioned, and felt a strange sense of déjà-vu as he watched her uncanny familiarity as she worked the ingredients into the potion. The University level Advanced Potions class had briefly touched on the subject, one of the potions of legend, one theorized to not even exist, perhaps never to have; as for what it was fabled to do, well that was just that, fable, legend, a holy grail of sorts to potion-makers.

The girl's movements were stiff, but knowledgeable and sure. He could hear her mumbling to herself and, his curiosity getting the better of him, he stepped up behind her to watch. Her movements were sure and precise as she stirred and added dashes of sugar-root and crushed Devil's-thorn. As he listened, she seemed to be reciting a text to herself, words reaching his ears that he vaguely recognized as ancient English. Suddenly she stopped, turning her head to the right to look past him to his stores again. Her eyes were glazed, eyebrows wrinkled in concentration as she mumbled.

"Oak's blood of theory and simmer in 2 to 4, oak's blood of theory and simmer in 2 to 4." He looked at her face trying to decipher her words. Sweat was forming on her forehead and her skin was a pale grey, almost buried under the intense concentration she was showing flashes of pain. Surely she wasn't thinking _that_ hard.

"I don't know, oak, tree, blood, sap, theory…" her voice faded away.

"Honey-sap." Her realized what it was and went to retrieve the thick substance, when he returned, she absent-mindedly took it and began to add small amounts of potion to the half full container watching the yellow goo turning red and gold and begin to swirl until turning a shimmering green. Stoppering the jar she set it carefully on the table and vanquished the remainder of the potion in the cauldron, extinguishing the fire and then set the jar into the empty cauldron.

"Must be simmered in 24 hours till it turns silver," she said quietly as if to the air and turned to leave.

"How did you know…" he began to ask her about the potion now existing on his bench but wasn't able to finish as his student crumpled to the floor landing painfully hard and obviously unconscious, not having reached out to catch herself.

"Brainless child," he muttered as he scooped her up into his arms and promptly carried her lithe frame up to the hospital wing and into Madame Pomfrey's care.


	2. Apologies, Of A Sort

Several days later, a couple bone regrowths, and concussion settling after the encounter which finally separated Mauve Bloodthorn from the rest of her classmates in the eyes of one Severus Snape, he caught sight of her out of the corner of one of those very eyes as she slipped into the classroom/laboratory. At that moment however, he could not spare her more than a thought as he worked quickly to keep his many potions simmering safely. As he added the last immediately required ingredient to a potion and began to stir it, he addressed her.

"The new batch of Veritserum is in need of two unicorn hairs and a pinch of pixie dust." Still watching the Dreamless Sleep potion he was stirring he listened as, after a short hesitation, her soft steps travelled behind him towards his store shelves. A moment later she returned with a long silver box and a glitter-filled jar. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she very carefully laid the two unicorn hairs from the box into the cauldron along the outside edge of the liquid now in the cauldron so that the ends of the hairs crossed at the front and back of the cauldron forming a circle and then very lightly sprinkled the pixie dust evenly upon the surface of the potion inside the unicorn hair circle being particular not to let the two ingredients touch.

"You've done your research." He was impressed by the care with which her movements were made.

"Yes sir," her answer was quiet and meek as she slowly stirred the potion barely making ripples in its surface.

"You missed the classes covering the Veritserum."

"Yes sir."

"How well have you studied the topic?" at this she looked up at him, a slight look of confusion showing on her small face.

"I could do it from memory sir," her tone hinted that she wondered there was any other answer.

"Very well then, you will be doing so."

"Sir? That would take several weeks and I've already missed too many of the class periods."

"Then I suggest that you come here and prepare it yourself outside of your regular classes."

"Yes sir," there was surprise in her voice.

"Are you prepared well enough to begin today?"

"Certainly sir."

"Very well then," he waved his wand towards a small table sitting in the corner of the room and a cauldron and fire appeared, "begin. You should know that I expect this potion to be impeccable as I plan on using it to replace one of the ones ruined during your monetary insistence of putting out my hair above a working cauldron."

"Yes sir." and she went to work.

A short while later he looked over to see her potion simmering and her head bent over a parchment as she scratched away with a quill.

Mauve didn't know it yet, but she and Severus Snape were more alike than either of them would probably have felt comfortable admitting. She had come here knowing that she owed the Potions Master an apology of some sorts, but with no plan on how to go about offering it, and he in turn had been pondering how he was to offer his own apology for causing her harm in return for her unmeant, yet helping hand. Neither were use to needing to apologize, she too use to fading into the background, and he too use to being the master of all around him. So instead, nothing was said and for days afterwards both would silently and individually work on their respective potions or research, hardly even admitting to the other's existence. She continued on with her routine of studies and classes, and he with his teaching and restocking of potions for the coming regular school year.

It was not to be said that they completely ignored each other, quite the opposite actually, although it was more to the tune of each other's potions and methods that were kept in constant observance. While her professor consistently would observe the consistency and odour and point of completion of her potion each time he passed her, so would she make notes about his methods and ingredients in reference to his own potions as she worked on her potion or sometimes her own coursework during a lull between ingredient additions. It became a game to her, to try and decipher what potion he was making , based on the order and quantities of ingredients that went into each of his cauldrons. Although it seemed many of them were merely for the purpose of restocking the school's infirmary, the occasional muttering she overheard seemed to provide remarkable insights into some of the modifications he made to even the most basic of potions. She was in awe, rereading her notes on these modifications, realizing the genius that lay behind the title of Master that he held over the subject.

And yet, as a turn of events usually will surprise even the expecting, especially when dealing with one Severus Snape, she never could have been prepared for what would come next.


	3. A Challenging Request

As does ever, leading a dual life, even when confessioned to an elder, the two must come to heads occasionally. It was the result of one of these clashes that resulted in a surprising visit of Fawkes to such as studious hatchling that he nearly needed to butt heads with her in order to gain her awareness.

A brilliant red and gold phoenix standing on the edge of the library table she sat at was a bit more than Mauve had expected to raise her head and see, much less one seemingly trying to give her the small rolled parchment in its beak.

"For me?" she asked the gorgeous bird. She had heard rumors that the headmaster of this school when it was in normal session had a phoenix but she had never thought to wonder at the idea. It nodded slightly, bowing to deposit the note in her hands.

"Thank you." The phoenix blinked t her and stood, silently watching her. She unrolled the message and raised her eyebrows.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak with _me_?" she was surprised, for she knew the wizened old man had been far too busy to have much to do with the university students studying here over the summer. "Very well, I suppose you might be able to show me the way?" She gathered her materials quickly as she addressed the bird. Once she had all her books and papers in her arms the golden-eyed creature took flight and preceded her out of the library. She stepped as swiftly after her guide as she could all the while attempting to shove her armload piece by piece into her shoulder-bag in some sort of orderly fashion.

"Must be rather important if it couldn't wait until after class," the phoenix nodded at her once again from its current perch ahead of her on a suit of armor. "I fear it might make me late, and Professor Snape does so abhor tardiness." She found herself explaining before her it once again flew ahead. Its only response was to let out a low, solemn, coo that sounded almost sorrowful. The magnificent bird led her to a stone gargoyle which, upon becoming a roost began to circle upwards to reveal a set of stairs following it. One wobbly step, almost off-balanced by her awkward load and she was riding them up until they came to rest at a solid wooden door with a brass knocker in the shape of a lion's head. Making use of the she momentarily heard a voice calling her to enter and the door swung open.

The room floored her for a moment, decoratively littered with framed pictures and magical items covering seemingly every surface, it seemed the whole room was a glittering cacophony of golds and wooden browns. All except for the man who sat in the middle of it all. His desk was situated next to the fireplace and in front of two plush tan sofa-seats embroidered in gold. He was in violent contrast to the room's décor with his baby-blue and silver robe set, hat, and his gray-white hair and beard. And yet, when he looked up at her and she caught a glimpse of a mischievous twinkle in his matching blue eyes, he seemed right in place.

"Ah, Miss Bloodthorn I presume." he smiled gently as he waved his hand and conjured two cups of tea and a small plate of cookies. "Tea?"

"Thank-you sir." She took it graciously but did not sip it, instead simply letting it warm her hands. "Not to be rude sir, but I don't wish to be late to class, if you could tell me why you have called me here."

"Ah, right to the point, no wonder you and my potions master get along so well."

"Get along sir? I fear the good professor merely tolerates my presence because he must." She smiled at the thought of their interactions being considered 'getting along'.

"Really, I think you might be surprised my child." His eyes twinkled at her confusion as he sipped his tea. "He tells me that you are his top student."

"Really." _That_ was news to her.

"Yes, he seems to be quite impressed by your potions abilities. In fact that is why I needed to speak to you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and I need you to understand that what I'm to tell you must not leave this room for the safety of those involved." He became very serious.

"Yes, sir."

"A situation has arisen that has made it very difficult for Professor Snape to attend to his duties, and it has fallen to me to attempt to find a way to cover his classes and other obligations."

"How do I fit in sir?"

"I've been asked to speak to you about taking over teaching his classes." He looked amused, as a shocked look came over her face.

"Me sir?" She slumped down into the chair behind her.

"It was specifically requested that I speak to you about this."

"Dumbledore smiles kindly at her as she sat stunned.

"Do you think you are up to it?"

Mauve thought hard for a moment. "Has Professor Snape approved this?" she asked slowly.

"It was he who suggested it Miss Bloodthorn, it seems he holds you in high regard, his confidence is not something he gives lightly. The young woman in front of him sat still, contemplating her hands, folded in her lap.

"When am I to start?" her voice was calm and collected and her face set in determination. Dumbledore rarely saw it but the reaction Severus's confidence has upon people never failed to amaze him. How a man who was so reluctant to show anything, snide shell could bring about such fiery strength of resolve in others would never cease to be a mystery to him.

"Severus has given me permission to allow you into his private office and labs. His lesson plans should be found there, and if I am not mistaken, today's classes start in only a little under half an hour."

"I shall need to speak to Professor Snape." She stood clasping her hands behind her back, her still full tea cup forgotten on the arm of the chair.

"I would suggest that you do so after today's classes. You will most likely need what time you have to review his lesson plans."

Yes, sir." She nodded, her eyes serious, and reached down absentmindedly to pick up her bag.

"Very well, I believe you know where his office is, the door has been spelled to recognize you and to accept your choice of passwords."

"Yes, sir. Thank-you sir." She bowed slightly to the elderly man.

"I will tell Severus to expect you after classes then. He will be found in the infirmary wing." She nodded once more and stepped from the room down the stairs, her head bent in concentration as she hurried on her way to the dungeon halls.

Her heart pounded as she approached the closed door to her professor's office. She felt nervous, as if she really shouldn't be here. Dumbledore's words echoed through her head and she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

'_his confidence is not something he gives lightly'_

Taking those words to heart she stifled her nervousness and turned the handle on the heavy wooden door. There was a click and it swung open gently. A candle, and then two flickered to life on the windowsill next to the desk and when she stepped through the doorway the fireplace flashed quietly to life throwing a warm orange light through-out the dark room. She took another deep stabilizing breath and made her way swiftly to the large wooden desk. A third candle flickered on to light the desk as she pushed the chair aside to sit down.

"Lessons plans, lesson plans," she muttered to herself as her eyes roamed the desktop. It was very neatly arranged to the far right was a basket of rolled parchments, in front of her at the back, a row of inks and quills alongside a neat stack of blank parchment, and to her left two stacks of used parchments. Very carefully, she began to search through the parchments to her left. The front pile seemed to be notes on his personal potions research, stacking those notes back into place she glanced at the back stack.

"Ah, hah." She muttered in triumph. She recognized the black folder on the bottom of the stack, Professor Snape was never without it in class. Pulling it out she opened it to see that it was indeed his class lesson plans, quickly glancing back at the papers that had been on top of the folder she quickly recognized them to be more notes on his classes and the potions they were working on. As she stood up she hesitated for a moment and then grabbed his research notes as well. She didn't know if she would be responsible for his research as well but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. No matter how little they got along she did greatly admire his potions skills and would consider it quite unfortunate if his research were to go to waste because he was unable to tend to it. Once all of these were in band she hurried out of the room, turning towards the door as it closed she whispered her password.

"Confidence." And the room was securely locked awaiting her return. She rifled through the documents while hurrying towards the potions classroom she stopped outside the door for a moment as intrepidation filled her, why did she agree to do this? She wasn't ready to teach! She was still just a student herself.

"Because Professor Snape ahs shown confidence in me," she told herself sternly. Breathing in and out she once again squared her shoulders and shook herself. "I _won't_ let him down." She decided firmly and pushed the doors open. The class did not cease their talking as she entered, she supposed this was a regular sight for them, her flying in moments before class started. She did so often lose track of the time during her morning library studying. Forcing her anxiety down she strode past her usual back row seat, past all the other student tables and up onto the platform in the front of the room where the professor's desk stood. She carefully set down her armload of papers on the nearly empty desktop and her book bag on the floor at the side of the desk.

Taking out the folder on the bottom of the pile, she leafed thorugh it until she came again to the day's Advanced Potions plan. She skimmed them as she listened to the class waiting for them to quiet down. As they did, a small piece of paper appeared on the desk with a small 'whoosh'-ing sound. She picked it up and immediately recongnizeded her professor's handwriting.

_'The password for the supply cabinets for class is 'armoire'. Conduct the courses with a strict hadn and you should have relatively few problems. Headmaster Dumbledore informed me I can expect to speak with you after the day's classes. I will do so._

_-S. Snape.'_

The queasy feeling in her stomach subsided considerably upon reading this. And with more assurance she waved her wand over the parchment with the class's assigned potion for the day and then pointed it towards the blackboards to either side of the desk. With a murmur of 'Inscripto transcribus', the assignment was now visible to the class. As the directions appeared to the class, the whispers stopped and the stares began. She could feel their eyes upon her, but not until complete silence finally fell on her ears did she speak. Still sorting out the papers she had grabbed from his office into an order easier for her to work with she began to address them.

"As I speak, please turn in your homework from the last class. Professor Snape will not be available to teach his classes for an undeterminable amount of time; and no, I do not know the reason for this." She only raised her gaze when the first student stepped up to hand her their parchment. "I have been asked by Headmaster Dumbledore to substitute in his place, for as long as needed. I can assure you that this does not mean any change in the curriculum nor the expectations placed upon your work. I will be conferring with Professor Snape closely about the class and can _promise_ you that he will still have a hand in grading your assignments."

There were a few grumbles at this and she found herself glaring at her fellow students in front of her. This was University Potions, how could they expect anything less from her. Suddenly she felt as though she were privy to a new point of view when it came to the attitude of their usual professor. His impatience was no longer an annoyance and she realized that it very well might have actually been _patience_ on his part.

"Now," she stated firmly. "Since you decided to waste the first few minutes of class with idle chatter, we now have under two hours to finish a potion that for most would take the entire class period. It can be done; I know this, Professor Snape knows this. He would expect this potion to be of impeccable quality as always, and therefore so will I. Begin." She felt strangely empowered, and guilty at her attitude towards her fellow students as she waved her wand at the supply cabinets, whispering the password under her breath. She walked over to them as the doors unlocked and pulled out a set of the needed ingredients for herself. She had no doubt that Professor Snape's confidence in her would not extend to assuming that she knew the potion so well as to not need to complete it. Having to work with a potion would also keep her busy when not working with the students, the last thing she wanted was time on her hands during which to become nervous. She took the advice he had given her in the note seriously, and so far, as she spared a glance towards the students now working mostly quietly at their cauldrons, it looked as though she might just make it through the day. Now she just held feverently to hope that no one would explode their cauldrons too badly.

By the end of the day she had a routine down. Her same small speech after the class had quieted down, getting them started on their assignments and making an identical potion for comparison along with them. She had less reservation about helping the students when they had questions, although she refused to _give_ them any of the answers and made more to get them to think around the subject until they came to the correct conclusion on their own. She made up for her helpfulness by engaging them in fast-paced Q and A sessions while the students' potions simmered. The next class's lesson plans she would review as the current class cleaned up and made their way noisily from the room.

Considering this had been the one day of the week in which all classes were held, she felt rather accomplished, if drained, by the end of the last one. She had completed four potions of her own and had collected nearly the whole 75 from the other students. Having to have only dealt with two exploding cauldrons and three zeros for homework not turned in she wished she had nothing more to do then retire to her room and sleep for the remainder of the evening. Instead, she began picking up all pertinent papers for the classes, stuffing them into her shoulder bag. Thinking better of trying to carry the students' works in the same bag, she summoned another in which to pack the essays and potions.

Deciding to stop by his office again to pick up the essays she had seen on his desk, she left the classroom cleaned and locked, to go meet her professor. When she reached the Hospital Wing of the castle her steps slowed. Her stomach again decided to make itself known by flopping rather awkwardly at the sight of the infirmary doors. The thought of facing Professor Snape always brought on the now familiar anxiety, but this time was different; this time there was so much more than messing up a potion that she could have done wrong. Swallowing hard, she pushed open the double doors and stepped into the sterile white hall.


	4. A New Point of View, For Two

Severus Snape was impressed. He had suggested to Albus that Mauve Bloodthorn be allowed to take over his classes merely because he did in fact consider her the most proficient person residing currently at Hogwarts when it came to potions who was physically, and time-wise, capable of doing so. Teaching himself was currently out of the question and Albus already had too much on his plate to be able to worry about a full load of courses to teach as well. And, quite frankly, he didn't trust any other potions professor he had ever met outside of the school as far as he could throw Gregory Goyle. He had thought only to saddle her with the courses until another suitable substitute from the potions community could be found (not likely as far as he was concerned), or Madame Pomfrey allowed him out of this blasted bed. Apparently, the Mediwitch had it in her that _that_ wasn't going to be happening anytime in the immediately plannable future, and so it seemed that Albus had recruited the young lady now sitting by his bed as a more permanent option than he had originally planned on. Severus had no doubts that the girl could handle the material being covered but he hadn't thought she would do it so well. Instead of nervously trying to sort through unorganized piles of papers, vials, and notes, she had summoned a table over between herself and his bed and was now calmly, if a bit shakily, setting out groups of potions and essay parchments while listing to him which course they were from.

"I see you survived the experience adequately."

"Yes sir, I took your advice well into mind. Now I fear that while the actual conducting of the classes may come well to me, I have not a clue as how to handle all of this."

"I should think it quite obvious." His usual sneer was there, but instead of being detrimental, it sounded, instead, to have a challenging air to it.

"To grade them, yes sir it is, but I have no idea how to start nor how you wish me to accomplish it or if you wish me to do it at all."

"Seeing as to how I am only able to maintain my current state of consciousness for uncontrollably short periods of time, I do believe that task does come with your acceptance of the position."

"Yes sir," she nodded solemnly but her gaze was still a shade of confused and overwhelmed as she observed the stacks in front of her.

"I will aid you to the best of my abilities, but I fear I must rely on your penchance for being a quick study." While rare, he had learned over time that properly timed compliments often had the most desirable effects in others of aiming their concentration where he needed it to be, in this case to diffusing her doubts in her duties.

"Yes, sir." Masked by snideness she wasn't entirely sure of what she had just heard so she merely nodded in acquiescence.

"Very well, shall we begin with the potions for the University Required Potions class."

"The _Trouble with Cauldrons_ class." Mauve muttered to herself, using the nickname for the Remedial level university potions class in which today's two destroyed cauldrons had met their misfortune. To her immense surprise, so much so that she dropped the vial currently in her hands—instantly thankful for the non-breakable charm she had cast upon all of them before bringing them up to the wing—she thought she heard him chuckle. It was a deep, rolling sound she had never imagined he was capable of making. She looked up upon retrieving her wayward vial to see a sly look vanishing from his face.

"Quite so Miss Bloodthorn." His eyes flickered for a moment and his usual stony mask was once again in place. "The first potion please."

Mauve quickly recovered from her start and double-checked the shorthand on the vial she held to be sure it contained the potion she had made during that class. Assured, she handed it to her professor. He swirled the vial carefully, scrutinizing how the thick blue liquid roiled with the motion of its container. He nodded thoughtfully and set it down carefully upon the desk.

"Would you kindly summon a small iron cauldron and a small amount of tallyweed from my stores?" She did so, making great care that there was a sufficiently large clear area on the side of the table closest to him for it when it appeared. Her professor had no uncorked the vial and was carefully sniffing at the pungent odor that it let off. When he was finished he handed the vial back to her.

"Place two leaves of tallyweed into the center bottom of the cauldron. If you add one drop of the potion, what results would you expect." She did as told, carefully separating two leaves from their mother-stalk while she replied.

"A slight hissing and a low lying purple fog approximately two inches thick and about one-quarter inch off the bottom of the cauldron."

"Very good, please proceed." She gently allowed one solitary drop to fall into the cauldron on top of the brown leaves. She and Professor Snape watched critically as the leaves hissed and a low violet fog did indeed appear within the confines of the iron metal.

"Excellent, whose potion is this?" He held up the vial for inspection.

"Mine sir, I wished to have a comparison against the other students'."  
"I see, is this the only class for which you did so?"

"No sir."

"Which other?"

"All of them sir."

"Interesting, I wish to see them." He swirled each vial she handed him, in turn, carefully regarding their contents for impurities.

"Now, what would be the most efficient ingredient with which to test the properties of these potions?"

Mauve thought carefully, reviewing in her mind the ingredients and steps of each of the potions, trying to pick out a common factor.

"Tea leaves," she answered carefully.

"Explain."

"I would prefer to use cactus gelatin as it nearly always provides a non-hazardous reaction to even unknown potions. But as these potions are all common in their use of Hagroot extract, the reactions they would produce when added to gelatin would not be sufficiently individual to the particular potion to determine its correctness. Tea leaves while a bit more dangerous in some mixtures will leave no doubt as to whether the potions were brewed correctly."

"Very good." She looked down at this in order to properly clean the cauldron in front of her but looked up again sharply when she heard the clinking of glass on glass. Glancing at her professor she saw that he was no longer conscious, the closed potion vials having fallen out of his hand on to the bedspread, his head lolled back against the pillows behind him.

"Professor!" She exclaimed, leaping up in worry. When he didn't respond she swiftly made it to the side of the bed and took his wrist in her fingers. She could feel his pulse strong and steady but he did not seem to want to wake up. She hurried down the long room to the Mediwitch's office.

"Madame Pomfrey!"

"What is it dear?" the older witch was clearly startled by her sudden entrance.

"It's Professor Snape, he's fainted!"

"Calm down dear, he's perfectly fine, or as fine as his condition allows, if it were truly serious, the alarms would have gone off." Mauve felt a great relief sweep over her at the woman's soothing words.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I can't really tell you my dear."

"Madame Pomfrey, if I am to be taking over his duties, I believe I should know what is wrong with the Professor."

"I know dear, but we really do not know what it is. Effects of several wayward spells I suspect. He has these fainting spells so often, just drops off into a coma for a while. No pattern, no consistency, it's simply as if all his body's energy gets used up in a matter of moments sometimes and then takes hours to recharge; all the while with none of the normal signs of weariness."

Mauve frowned, that was strange indeed. "What caused this?" now she was curious.

"I really can't say. I'm sorry." The elderly woman sounded it too. There was a tiredness to her voice and Mauve suddenly noticed the piles of tomes open on the Mediwitch's desk, most of them various healing and potions tomes. Recognizing serious research when she saw it, she nodded politely. Whether the woman truly didn't know the cause or just wasn't at liberty to tell her was none of her concern, no matter how strong her curiosity.

"Then I shall leave you to your research, I'm sorry to have bothered you ma'am."

Not to worry, it's my fault, I should have informed you of Severus's condition when you cane in this evening. I suspect he thought that either I or Albus had. He would not be pleased to have caused such a scene I think." Mauve smiled a bit at this, never was uttered a truer statement.

"He has had to push his pride down immensely in order to allow you to see him as he is now. If you wish him to remain as cordial as I suspect he is making an effort to be, I suggest that you treat him no different than were he in front of the class teaching rather than confined here." Her grey eyes twinkled at the younger witch in weary humor.

"Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am." And with a small formal bow she retreated back to the homework covered table and her unconscious professor. Stepping back up o the side of the bed she very gently collected the potion vials that had fallen from his grasp and returned them to their places upon the table. Sighing, she muttered a spell to lengthen the infirmary bed slightly, allowing his body to slowly settle into a more natural position, and then turned back to the mounds of work in front of her. Resolutely she began to work on a plan of attack, eventually deciding that it would be best to make a list of all relevant points for each of the class's essays and potions against which to compare them. Two hours later she had her lists, filled with references back to the textbooks she had had with her, and was half-way through the University required Potions class essays. Not quite the blood-red she was use to seeing on the essays, her notes and markings still stood out as a brilliant fuscia. When she heard the bed's occupant stir she moved the potions he had been observing earlier back within reach of him on the desktop and continued to mark the essay she was studying. She heard a slight clink as he picked them up again.

"How long?" he didn't need to clarify, not that he would have anyway, always content with brevity of speech.

"A bit over two hours sir."

"And you have accomplished what?"

"I believe I have come up with a marking system. I f you would care to look over it, sir?" she still did not look up. Taking Madame Pomfrey's advice she had retreated safely into the familiarity of their usual student-teacher interactions, pretending he was standing over her as she worked on her potion she refused to allow him to cause her to lose her place all the while taking into mind what he was saying.

"Momentarily," he closely examined the potions in his hands and then set them carefully back onto the table. "Have you tested these with the tea leaves yet?"

"No sir, I was hoping to get your opinion on the reactions as well."

"Seeing as how I am now awake, please continue."

"Yes sir." She carefully took one bunch from the tea leaves she had summoned earlier and placed them into the clean cauldron.

"Your expected reaction Miss Bloodthorn?" he asked as he uncorked her potion from the Medicinal Potions class.

"A gray smoke, and a dissolution of the tea leaves into a semi-translucent yellow liquid."

"Proceed." With his consent, she allowed five drops of the potion to fall into the small cauldron and stirred it gently counter-clockwise until the grey smoke had disappeared to reveal a dark yellow swirling liquid. On a parchment next to her she made quick notes to herself on the amount of time the smoke took to appear and disappear and other specifics she noted that she hadn't before. Next was the testing of her Advanced Topics on Potions Class vial, once again producing the exact predicted reaction

"Were you able to collect my grade sheets as well as my notes Miss Bloodthorn?"

"I believe so, sir." And she handed him the black folder from which she had found his lesson plans.

"Yes, thank you." He opened it on his lap and took use of the quill and Slytherin green ink well she placed on his side of the desk. He made no effort to conceal that it was next to her name that he marked the 'O' in regards to her potion. But when he looked back up, her concentration was once again on the papers she was occasionally comparing to a list she had laid out next to them as she marked. It seemed that she was nearly half-way through what looked to him to be the essays from the latest University Required Potions Class.

As if she felt his gaze she quickly finished the note she was penning and looked up in expectance.

"You said you had a marking system."

"Yes sir." She nodded and pulled a thin stack of only about 5 parchments towards her and placing the one she had been referring her current essays to on top, handed them to him. He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"I didn't know how you go about it sir, so I decided that a list of relevant points would be best to reference the essays and potions against." She stated boldly as an explanation. When he looked up at her, however, a slightly stricken look passed over her face. "I-if you think that is alright sir, it's probably not the most efficient system sir, but it's the best I could come up with and I felt grading sooner rather than later would be preferred to waiting." Her eyes went to her fingertips that rested on the edge of the desk in front of her. He said nothing, and proceeded to read through the parchments. Murmuring softly to himself in Latin he absently reached for the quill he had been using and set about marking a few notes and additions of his own to her lists. When he had finished he looked up again to see her still sitting quietly, her eyes studying the desktop.

"Quite doable. I have made some adjustments however." At this she looked up and nodded.

"Yes sir." She took what parchments he handed back to her noticing that he still held two in his hands.

"I do not believe it would be proper procedure for you to be allowed to grade your own work. I will do so and then you may grade the rest of the classes's and return the essays with the rest for review."

"Yes sir." As she reached to the pile and handed him the ones she had already marked it occurred to him, out of nowhere, just how often it seemed that the words 'yes sir', spoken in that quiet, unsure tone, made up her answers to him. In the classroom he supposed he never really noticed that reply, but here it was odd to hear so often, almost, _almost_, out of place.

"You will of course go over these once more taking into consideration the additional relevancies?" he asked as he began to read the paper on top.

"Certainly sir," and they settled down into their respective piles.


	5. Working With The Bat

Over the remainder of the term, Mauve found she was rather pleased with the new arrangement of her schedule, and was a bit saddened at the thought of the summer ending and the lack of direction she seemed to be finding herself experiencing more and more. Whenever she thought about the looming end of classes, she felt as though she were losing something important, and it was hard to envision what she would be doing with her time once she was no longer needed here. Professor Snape was improving rather rapidly, according to Madame Pomfrey, and he was now allowed to work at a desk that had been set up (or perhaps summoned up from his rooms by the look of it) in a small alcove near one of the Hospital Wing's many story-high windows. As much as she truly couldn't see him as a sunshine-enjoying type of person, he rather did seem to be enjoying his time back in his teaching robes and madly marking the papers and potions from the classes with his quills.

Once his students had realized that her being their 'substitute teacher' of sorts wasn't bound to be a once or twice deal, they had settled down and begun taking their work seriously again. Unbeknownst to her, there was an air of begrudging respect towards her amongst them. She was no easier in the work she assigned (it being Professor Snape's in the first place), nor was she easier in her grading or the expectations she held of their conduct, but there were more hands raised to ask questions (she had taken to heart Snape's advise to answer only those that were intelligent and went beyond the readings or work assigned to be done before that particular class) or to have her double-check a student's next step before they proceeded. Yet, despite being more approachable and more their own ages, there was still that feeling of separation as she made no effort to get to know or become friends, or even acquaintances, with any of them. There had been a few attempts by a couple, to engage her in conversation during meals or in the library, but those had ended in awkwardness and a quickly spreading tidbit that she was far too snobbish and superior to be bothered with outside of potions discussions. If these students had understood the commonly accepted description of a Slytherin, she quickly would have been dubbed as such.

For Mauve, the days passed quickly, being focused and very busy, filled with potions work, potions research, potions grading, and nigh a moment to spare to sit for a full meal, but she was running on pure exhilaration and energy at the thought of all there was to do. If one was brave enough to say so, she might almost have claimed to live for her meetings with Professor Snape. While now able to maintain normal conscious hours as final exams drew nearer, he was still not allowed out of Madame Pomfrey's clutches due to his drastically low magic levels and her refusal to let him into his classrooms near students where magic-use was often unavoidable to prevent cauldron-based catastrophes. Now that their grading sessions could be completed in a single sitting per day, she found she had more time to spend on her own, self-assigned work for each of the classes, and for researching the many topics brought up as they discussed the potions and essays the students turned in. Often she found herself waking suddenly to a silent and dark library table at all hours of the night and into the morning. At first, she had been worried that once he was doing better, that he would take some of the grading away from her and begin to do more of it himself, instead, he contented himself to their original arrangement, and spent much of the time at his newly situated desk working on what looked to her as course planning for Hogwarts' usual accompaniment of younger students, and working on papers for many of his own research projects. He would often ask her to bring him back books from the library after her sojourns there, or to pick up his orders from the owlery when he had new books or potions supplies due in to the school. She didn't mind in the least, for it often meant a short discussion on the desire for one Potions Master's work over another's, or the pros and cons of a certain book, ingredient, or method in a new publication over others. She felt she was learning more from working with the Professor than she ever could have simply taking classes.

Neither of them noticed, so engrossed in their works or their discussions, the many times Madame Pomfrey, Minerva McGonagall when she returned, and even Albus Dumbledore himself stopped in merely to observe them quietly under the pretense of checking on his progress. Should either of them have noticed this, it certainly would have caused great strife between observer and observee(s).

Severus Snape was a complex man Mauve was learning anew each day. He was insanely brilliant, more observant than anyone else she had ever met, definitely more snide, blatantly so, even to the point of being almost rude unless one listened closely, and had an acidic sense of humor. She wouldn't go as far as to say that he actually enjoyed her company, she in no way even close to being on his level when it came to, well, any subject they discussed, but it was somewhere between putting up with her and preferring her company over some others when it came down to teaching her. She soon realized that even this much from him, the lack of snide remarks to her questions and the honest attention he gave her when they spoke, was more than many could ever hope to expect from him. However, it was still far from the evidence of true friendships she saw when Minerva and Albus came to speak with him, however infrequently that was.

While planning for last week of classes before finals Mauve surprised even herself by suggesting a change to the schedule for the potions classes that Professor Snape had given her. While looking over the schedule that had been completed at the beginning of the semester, she noticed that in all the classes, the occasional times that she had pushed the students to finish their potions in class rather than to spread them over two class periods had left them with that week's assignments already done. Upon seeing this, she decided to broach the idea of a review session rather than a new assignment.

"Because the students have already finished this week's potions, I'd like to do something a little different." Professor Snape had been working on one of his papers when she spoke up. Easily able to divide his attention, an ability she often admired, silently, about him, he indicated she continue by turning his head slightly in her direction as he continued to work.

"I would like to do a review session, I was thinking of having each student prepare a different potion they received instruction in this semester and require that a predetermined number of steps or time limit, that they switch to another cauldron, with the intent of being able to continue where the previous student left off." At this, he actually stopped writing and looked up at her. There was no definite expression to be seen on his face, so she took a small breath and boldly continued. "This does present a couple obstacles; if I were to require that they complete these potions from memory, I worry that I would not be able to prevent the many mistakes bound to occur at once within the room, this means I would require the presence of others able to assist with this. There is the problem of students being less capable of picking up after another's work and not having the thorough, and current thought process they have been allowed previously in their work, I am hesitant to allow notes, however I am considering requiring them to record their steps as they work them, signing off on their completed steps before turning the potion over. Or perhaps I should run a session of identification of previously completed potions in different stages of completion and disarray...." she was almost simply thinking aloud to herself at this point, possibilities flashing through her mind almost before she could fully form them. She shook her head, "Never mind sir, I'm sorry, the idea needs some more thought."

When she looked up, her eyes tracing towards the wall behind him to his right, her normal visually blank venue when thinking something through, she noticed that he was looking thoughtful. It was the same expression as when he was about to quiz her about a potion or ingredient or her reasons for grading a student a certain way. She nearly gulped as the thought crossed her mind that she should have just kept her mouth shut.

"Why not simply create a study guide or do a verbal quiz in class like most teachers?" His questions were never suggestions, always more like an interview into the reasons to do or not to do. Luckily, this question she was actually ready for.

"A study guide gives them answers out of context and a verbal quiz requires them only to know facts, not processes as they will need to know outside of school. Potions knowledge alone without the ability to complete and modify potions is useless."

"Very well. All your points are valid. Keep in mind the time constraints you are under for holding this refresher course and the ability levels of each class." Nodding at this she sighed quietly and leaned back in her chair to contemplate her options. Arms crossed, she stared at nothing in particular as she re-evaluated the different ideas she had come up with. The test needed to be comprehensive, covering the very basics all the way up to the requirements for each course; it needed to cover theory as well as practicum work. Above all, it needed to make them think, to prove that they had the cognitive and problem-solving abilities to not only make the potions they had learned but to deal with the different types of problems that would invariably occur in real-world potion-making. She grimaced, this was harder than it had first seemed. Taking a calming breath she turned back towards him.

"What would you do sir?" His hand froze momentarily in writing before resuming, she had never directly asked for his help. Severus Snape had been caught off guard, something he prided himself in not happening very often. He was impressed, not many people would be brave enough to deliberately ask for his opinion, but then again, Mauve Bloodthorn wasn't exactly placed in the same category as most people in his mind. The working relationship he had been forced into with her had transformed his view of her from a know-it-all, almost Granger-like student (although at first seemingly with the sulking loner attitude of Potter) into that of an unusually bright and resourceful young lady with the definite potential makings of a Potions-Mistress. He considered her question for a moment as he finished the paragraph of notes he had been taking in his journals. Truthfully, he wouldn't even bother with a review session, if the students didn't know the material by now, he considered them lost causes. However, her train-of-thought towards the subject had suggested more of an intense testing session, one that would test their ability not only to work with potions, but to prevent the mistakes and accidents often associated with the subject. She had a good mind, and her ideas were more worthy of test strategies than review sessions.

"I concur with the need to cover a wide range of theoretical and practical knowledge. However…" her heart nearly fell at this, first praise and then he was going to rip into her ideas like he did the papers turned in by the students. She could see it now, red quill stabbed into her skull and red ink flowing with black text flowing from her ears. She shook herself mentally and sat up straight in order to focus more on what he was saying.

"I would suggest leaving the details of such plans for developing final tests and stick to a more traditional method of review, perhaps similar to that of and O.W.L exam." He hadn't berated her ideas after all! He liked them! Well, as liked them as Severus Snape ever seemed to do with anything. She didn't dare to hope that his comment meant that she might be allowed to _design_ future tests.

He was looking at her expectantly now and she tried to remember how her own Potions O.W.L has been set up. She had been given the required potion to complete from scratch, but there had also been a, well, a logic-problem of sorts. She had been given an incomplete formula and asked to fill in the missing ingredients, amounts, and actions in order to determine what the potion and the desired effects were meant to be. Now _that_ was an idea. She didn't even have to explain it, he merely nodded at her as her eyes widened with the thought and they both returned to their own work, he to his journal article, and her to her plethora of books and assignment sheets.


End file.
